Lentil, Chévre and Walnut Salad

 

We were invited to a housewarming barbie on Saturday night, and I said I’d take salad. But the weather was so wet and miserable that, when it came to cooking time, I really couldn’t come at anything cold and green. Instead, I threw together an earthy lentil salad using ingredients from the store cupboard, gussied it up with herbs from the garden, and served it in a wooden bowl made by Keith, a much-missed family friend.

Eschewing gladwrap, I balanced the bowl on my knee as my husband rather sadistically drove through the backstreets, thus ensuring he hit every speed bump in Brunswick. Each time I shrieked, raised the bowl, and prayed the lentils wouldn’t spray out at me, he sniggered in the driver’s seat. Perhaps there are times a bit of plastic wrap is called for – or perhaps I should look for a less sadistic husband.

Yet the salad and our marriage arrived all in one piece, and the party was a goodie. It had just the right proportion of old friends, interesting acquaintances and new people – and was ever so suitable to our life stage. My kids were absorbed into a tribe of children while I rocked someone else’s baby to sleep, caught up with half a dozen people, and met a few more. Four hours later, we headed home, tucked in the kids, read a book and were still in bed by ten. Now that’s my sort of party – kids and babies everywhere, lots of conversation, and a nice early night!

Lentil, Chévre and Walnut Salad - 3 cups lentils, green French-style (Puy) work best - 2 tbs olive oil - 3 carrots - 2 stalks celery - 1 bay leaf - 150g chévre or other soft goats cheese - 1 cup freshly shelled walnuts - a bunch of fresh parsley and/or thyme - red wine vinegar - a hefty pinch of salt - extra virgin olive oil, to serve Place the lentils in a bowl. Boil the kettle, and cover the lentils with a generous amount of boiling water. Leave to sit for ten minutes. Chop the carrots and celery small. Ideally, you want them to be not so very much bigger than the lentils, yet with each piece having individual form. Warm the olive oil in a deep pan with the bay leaf and add the carrots and celery. Cook gently, stirring from time to time, until they begin to glisten. Add the lentils and their soaking water to the pot; add a little more water if necessary to just cover the lentils. Simmer for 15 minutes, add salt, then cook for another 5 to 15 minutes, checking every five minutes until the lentils are cooked through but still have some firmness. Remove from the heat, and take out the bay leaf. A guy I know almost died choking on a bay leaf, so I insist on this point! Drain the lentils, and pour them into a large bowl. Drizzle them with olive oil and the tiniest splash of red wine vinegar, just enough to sharpen the flavours but not enough to dominate. Chop the herbs (parsley and thyme, separately or together, are a lovely match for lentils) and toss them through. Crumble the chévre over the salad, then sprinkle the walnuts over the chévre. Add cracked black pepper, if you wish, and a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil, also if you wish. Serve warm or at room temperature (but definitely not cold). Notes: This is a very loose recipe. You can add a finely chopped onion and/or garlic, warmed in the olive oil before the carrots and celery, if you wish; and the proportions of lentils to veggies are just a guide. Also, this makes Quantity. Halve it if it’s just you and a friend; or eat the top half, then turn the bottom half sans chévre into soup the next day by adding stock and heating it through. (Backyard/gleaned: bay leaf, parsley, thyme. Wimmera: lentils, olive oil, salt. Gembrook: walnuts. Meredith: goats cheese. Mystery: carrots, celery, red wine vinegar. Ah well.)

Chestnut and Lentil Soup

 

I recently had a piece published about the act of peeling chestnuts which came out, ironically, just as I missed the annual chestnut harvest day at a friend's property in Gembrook. Thanks be, other friends made it and came back with an extra bag they had collected just for me.

I'm sorry to have missed the harvest, but I must admit I'm also a little relieved. Collecting chestnuts is not unmitigated fun. They drop from the tree in prickly bundles, which you must roll with a sturdy boot to open up and then, with gardening gloves, you fish the nuts out. Spines slip through the weak points in your gloves, leading to much sucking of fingers. One child or another always manages to fall in the chestnut grove and land knees first on the prickles and, cold hearted mother that I am, I find the annual screams a little tedious.

Meanwhile, there are so many chestnuts lying around that I find it difficult to collect only what I can reasonably cook. Some years I come back with a long labour of peeling chestnuts ahead of me, too many to be enjoyable.

But this year, thanks to my friends, I have a couple of kilos, just enough to eat this week. No little kids have had to shout about the prickles in their knees, and my fingers are unscathed. Next year, my kids will be older, my gloves will be thicker, and we will go again.

Chestnut and lentil soup is one of our favourites. The sweetness of the chestnuts is beautifully balanced by the earthiness of the lentils; the result is simple, nourishing and deeply satisfying. I like to keep the elements separate, so that one experiences little explosions of sweet chestnut; but it is also good as a purée, if rather unfortunate in appearance.

Chestnut and Lentil Soup - 1 kg chestnuts in their shells - 1 cup brown lentils - 1 tbs olive oil - 1 brown onion, chopped - 2 cloves garlic, chopped - 1 stalk celery, chopped - 2 medium sized carrots, chopped small - 2 cups chicken stock or vegetable stock, or water - 1 cup extra water - 1 bay leaf - ½ tsp salt - 4 or 5 stalks parsley - extra virgin olive oil to finish Prepare the chestnuts. To do this, using a small sharp knife cut a cross in the rounded side of each chestnut. Drop the chestnuts into a pan of boiling water. Simmer for fifteen minutes, then turn off the heat. Remove the chestnuts from the water a few at a time, and peel them. Do not let them cool down too much, as in cooling the skin adheres to the nut. Discard any hard or discoloured bits as these will be bitter. Chop roughly. Soak the lentils in hot water for ten minutes. Warm the olive oil, then add the onion. Cook over medium heat for ten minutes, but do not let it brown. Add the garlic and celery, and cook for another minute. Add the carrot, and cook for a few more minutes or until the vegetables look shiny. Drain the lentils and add them to the pan. Add the stock or water, plus an extra cup of water, the bay leaf and the chestnuts. Cook for 15 minutes with the lid on. Test a lentil. If it is soft, salt and turn down the heat; if it is still hard, give it a few more minutes before salting. Cook for another 5 to 10 minutes then turn off the heat. Let it sit for an hour or so for the flavours to meld. You may need to add a little more boiling water to get the consistency you like. (I like it very thick, more stew than soup.) Remove the bay leaf. Chop the parsley and throw that in. Serve with a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil. (Backyard / gleaned: bay leaves, parsley. Gembrook: chestnuts. Wimmera: lentils, olive oil, salt. Other bits of Victoria: onion, celery, carrot. Mixed sources: homemade stock. Can't remember but it might have been Colac: garlic.)

Lentil and Leaf Amaranth Soup

 

Once upon a time there was a family with three little girls who spent their days running and jumping and climbing and skipping and swinging and riding and arguing and telling jokes; and so they were always hungry.

Their chickens laid four eggs a day, but it wasn't enough. Their father brought home bread from the market, but still it wasn't enough. Their mother went for long walks and came home with armfuls of greens, but even still it wasn't enough.

So their mother scratched her head and had a think; then she built a garden. She heaped it up with compost and mulched it heavily; and in that garden she planted every leafy green she could think of: rocket and kale, Swiss chard and rainbow chard, lettuces freckled and plain, land cress and watercress, fat hen, leaf amaranth, warrigal greens and lovage. In a sunny patch she planted herbs: parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme; summer savory and winter savory; coriander and chervil and chives; perilla and purslane; basil and borage and salad burnet. And the sun shone down and the rain fell and those leaves grew and grew.

Every evening just before the sun went down, out went the mother with a sharp knife and a basket, and brought in greens for dinner.

 

One afternoon, as she stood at the kitchen sink, the leaf amaranth caught her eye. Green leaves edged in pink, it was a delirious sight. Bright arches of seeds swayed in the gentle breeze, beckoning to her. Ah, thought the mother, it's time.

So she gathered up her knife and basket and out she went. On her way through the garden she pulled up an onion and popped it in her basket. She pulled a couple of carrots and threw them in, too. Finally, she came to the amaranth. She cut the stems and trimmed off the seeds, which she threw to the chooks. She laid the stems gently in her basket, and carried everything inside.

There she warmed the onion in a swirl of olive oil, then added the carrots, some celery, a handful of lentils and stock; and she left it bubbling on the stove. Just before dinner, she threw in the amaranth leaves and let them wilt.

She brought the soup to the table where the three girls were waiting, spoons in hands, hungry eyes burning. The smallest girl ate two bowls full; the middle sized girl ate one bowlful; but the biggest girl ate six bowls full, then asked for some more!

Lentil and Leaf Amaranth Soup - a bunch of leaf amaranth (or spinach or fat hen or turnip tops or silverbeet or rainbow chard or any other tasty edible green), washed and stems removed - 1 onion, chopped small - 2 carrots, chopped small - 2 sticks of celery, chopped small - 2 tbs or so olive oil - 150g brown lentils (I used Spanish brown lentils, grown in the Wimmera.) - 1 litre chicken stock or vegetable stock - a pinch of salt - extra peppery green olive oil, to serve Warm the olive oil in a small soup pot. Add the onions, the carrot and the celery and cook gently until they have softened, ten minutes or so. Add the lentils and stir, then add the stock. Bring to a simmer, and cook for fifteen minutes. Add salt to taste, then cook until the lentils are quite soft. Add the greens, and let wilt. Serve as is, or pulse-chop in the food processor until it is a rough consistency. Serve with a drizzle of peppery extra virgin olive oil and a bit of black pepper. Photograph shows soup with unleavened bread, made with buckwheat and two tablespoons of olive oil. (Victoria: leaf amaranth, carrots, onions, olive oil, lentils. Mixed sources: homemade stock. Mystery location: celery.)

Lentil and Celeriac Soup

 

My birthday: a day of groceries and laundry and nothing particularly special, so I decided to take my youngest out for lunch. Minutes before we left the house, however, her eyes went wide. 'Nappy!' she yelled urgently, 'Now'!'; then proceeded to fill it in spectacular fashion. As I cleaned her up, I asked how she was feeling. 'Not so good,' she said, 'my tummy funny'. Should we go out, I asked. 'Maybe not,' she said, then, one finger raised to the ceiling and a broad smile on her face she said, 'I have an idea: we could have birthday lunch at home!'.

Such a stroke of brilliance from a two year old is rather touching, all things considered; and we stayed in. I read a few more stories and built a marble run, then we sat down to lunch at, as always, the back table. Happily, I had made lentil soup earlier in the week, and we had some good cheese. As I sniffed my soup, I reflected that being home for lunch, while mundane, could still be very pleasant indeed.

When I had made the soup, I was looking for the autumnal feel of lentils without heaviness. Rather than a spicy thick red slurry, I had imagined pretty slate-green lentils, which hold their shape so well, piled into a light broth. I added carrots for their sweetness, and celeriac for its light clean flavour; and after the vegetables had sautéed for a while I threw in a generous slosh of martini bianco and let it reduce.

Martini bianco is a sweet Italian vermouth, herbaceous with a hint of vanilla. Vermouth is a mixer, but as I have no head for strong martinis I mix it into soup, stew and risotto instead! Here, the sweetly herbal flavour cut through any tendency to heaviness. The soup ended up gentle, fragrant, and soothing; everything I could have wanted in a week of nippy mornings, sunny days and exciting nappy events!

Lentil and Celeriac Soup - 1 brown onion - 2 carrots - 1 celeriac - ¾ cup green Puy style lentils - a bay leaf - a decent slosh vermouth, preferably Martini bianco - 4 cups or so water - olive oil - five or six stems of flat leaf parsley, chopped finely - a hefty pinch of salt Chop the onions finely. Warm the olive oil in a soup pot, and add the onions and a pinch of salt. Cook over medium heat while you chop the celeriac and carrots into small dice. When the onions are translucent, add the celeriac, carrots and bay leaf, and push them around with a wooden spoon until they are glossy. Add a slosh of vermouth (2 to 3 tablespoons), and let it reduce, which it will do almost immediately. Add the lentils and the water, and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat to a gentle simmer, and let cook for half an hour. Taste for salt, remembering that lentils do need a good bit of salt, and cook for another ten to fifteen minutes, or until the lentils are just cooked. Puy lentils hold their shape; you are not looking for sludge. Serve with a good sprinkling of freshly chopped parsley, and a swirl of olive oil. This soup is delicious immediately. You can store it for a few days in the fridge, as did I, but the lentils absorb all the moisture and you will need to add more water each time you re-heat it, thus diluting the already light flavour; it was best on the first day. (Local: onions, celeriac, carrots, lentils, bay leaf, parsley, olive oil. Not local: vermouth, salt, pepper.)